Tony Stark in Grocery Lists
by hesallin
Summary: So he keeps a list. '101 things that make Tony Stark tick.' Only, he guesses he ought to change it. These days '1000 Reasons I'm in Love with Tony Stark' has a much better ring to it. (Or, Steve is confused about the future. He figures Tony Stark is a good place to start).


Steve Rogers is confused about a lot of things.

He woke up in a world that shakes and rattles, brightens when it ought to dim, dances when it should be sleeping. Steve Rogers sweats through the shock, runs through the ache, attempts to steady his hands when they shake with fright. Steve rogers is hoping, praying, nudging broken bones and tired limbs just to stay awake in the city that never sleeps.

But nothing in the future is quite as confusing as Tony Stark.

Tony Stark builds miracles in his sleep. He lights up cities and his own damn ribcage, casts shadows on reinvention with two fists, shapes cities like he knows he could break them. Builds walls like he's hoping you'll shake them.

Tony Stark is all busy and bright and future, and Steve Rogers is still shaking, still tired. There is still water in his lungs, and they rattle when he yells, "big man in a suit of armor. Take that off and what are you."

Steve hasn't quite figured that out yet.

So he keeps a list. 101 things that make Tony Stark tick. It fills up the pages of his brain, endless, useless, miles and miles of pointless Tony Stark trivia.

He outgrows 101 pretty quick. Tony is all hands and mouth and movement, quick and unrelenting, and the pages grow longer by the second.

Reason #7: He is remarkably stubborn

Reason #14: He still cuts the crusts off his sandwiches

Reason #32: He always ties the left shoe first

Reason #38: He sings in the shower

It's funny. The more he understands Tony Stark, the more his eyes catch on fingers that twiddle between coffee cups, the more he understands the world. He is sharp, and fast, and dirty, and New York City knows his hands as well as Steve.

And the pages grow.

Reasons #74: Sometimes he smiles like he's forgotten how to do it

Reason #97: His hair curls just behind his ears the longer he goes without a cut

Reason #129: His bones seem to rattle the longer he sits still

Reason #184: Sometimes, in the light of the morning, his eyes drift shut, lashes caught against tan skin, fingers tracing the rim of the coffee cup, and you'll think to yourself how tired he must be

Steve, in the quiet of the night, will think of the way it feels to dream about falling. That jerk to consciousness, the moment between awake and down, down, down. He always thinks about Tony like that. Like he's falling right into him.

He guesses he ought to change the list. '1000 Reasons I'm in Love with Tony Stark' has a much better ring to it.

Reason #218: Eight cups of coffee a day seems like a perfectly reasonable amount of coffee to Tony Stark

"Nu-uh, give it here," Steve says, tugging the mug out of Tony's hands. Warm coffee bubbles over the sides, dripping down the ceramic, and Steve grimaces.

"Hey, what are you- Give that back!"

And Tony fixes him with a glare, but he doesn't reach for the cup, so Steve considers that his good deed for the day.

"Sleep. Now. Don't make me call Pepper," Steve says, and he's only slightly joking.

Tony gasps, drawing a hand to his chest dramatically, and Steve can't help but snicker.

"Why Steven, I thought we had something."

"I'm trying to get you in bed, aren't I?" Steve jokes.

There is a beat, a heart thump of a moment where something jumps in Tony's jaw, and then it's gone. Steve is suddenly very, very tired.

"Go to bed, Tony."

And he listens.

Reason #84: Tony wants nothing more than to be loved

It's movie night, and Tony's got his feet in Steve's lap. Something Disney is playing on the screen, and Clint is singing along. The sky is a pinhole outside the windows, dark and small and empty, but there's nothing inside but laughter. The lamp sits in the corner, dim and soft, and Steve's got nothing but time.

Tony is half asleep, all soft breath and dewy smiles, and when he looks at Steve it's so lovely he thinks he might kiss him.

"Thanks for being here," Steve says instead, hushed in the darkness.

Tony just smiles, lazy, spreading across his face like butter, till he opens his eyes. They catch on Steve's with a tug that feels like friction, and his hands come to rest on Tony's ankles.

"Steve, I-"

Clint shushes them, and a handful of popcorn lands in their laps, and whatever Tony was going to say is spoiled, expired, so Steve plops a kernel in his mouth and chews.

"God, way to eat Clint's hand germs. If you think he washes them, you're kidding yourself."

Steve laughs and laughs, and then he's grabbing more, chasing at Tony's mouth with the popcorn as he lets out a squeak, toppling off the couch with a thud.

This time, when Clint shushes them, they just smile.

Reason #491: Tony and Clint make a dangerous pair

"Tell me again why the microwave just insulted me?"

Tony looks up from the pile of circuits on the table and grins, toothy and all too warm. Steve pries his collar from his neck.

"Clint's idea. Something about that smart house movie. I don't even know if he knows what he's talking about, but it seemed like a good idea at 3am."

Steve just laughs, plopping onto the sofa.

"Smart house movie?"

"Some old thing," Tony says, already back to fiddling with the parts on the table, "like the Jarvis of the 2000's or whatever."

And it's warm in the workshop, but this thing between them feels warmer, blinding and hot, and Steve swallows down the ache, the need. There is a beat of silence, in which nothing is said, and Steve takes a breath.

'This love is going to ruin you,' he thinks, and suddenly he's tired, heavy and drawn.

'This love is going to burn you to the ground,' says a voice, angry and bitter and wrong.

'You are nothing but empty lungs without him.'

He takes a breath. Goes back to sketching. He doesn't care.

Reason # 120: He is, all things considered, pretty decent in the kitchen

"Hand me that knife, will you?"

Steve glances up from the newspaper, and his heart rattles in his chest. There Tony stands, sticky hands and apron clad thighs, and he smiles.

"Can't you get it yourself?"

"Hello, chef hard at work here. I've got gunk on my hands. Stop being a freeloader and come help me make dinner."

He huffs a laugh, and sets down the paper, walking steady towards the sink.

There are moments where this love doesn't burn. Where it fills him up from the inside. There is a steady flame in his chest, a flicker, and when Steve hands Tony the knife, their fingers touch, swift and lovely and warm. The is an ache in him, but it's quiet. There is a sigh in his heart, but right now it does nothing but beat.

'bum bum.'

'bum bum.'

Steady.

Solid.

Quick.

He grabs the salt. There are moment for heartache, but this is not one of them.

Tony smiles. And Steve goes back to cooking.

Reason #4: He drinks too much

"You smell like a bar," Steve says, and it's softer than Tony needs, but less than he deserves.

"I'm sorry," he says, over and over, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Steve says, and he's tired, he is, but Tony is shaking, anxious and angry and sad, and he remembers the way he felt after the ice, cold and brittle and furious, so he waits.

Listens.

"You can't fix me," he whispers, broken and shaky, and Steve wants to hit something.

Feels that tremor in his fists that rattles his brain like loose change, sees nothing but red, a desert sky that stretches between them.

'You're perfect,' he wants to say.

'You are oceans and skies and moons and I love you,' he wants to cry.

'You are nothing but everything,' sits in the back of his throat.

"There's nothing to fix," he says, and then Tony's crying, shaking, fists curling around empty air before they find Steve.

In the morning, they pour the bottle down the drain. It's not enough, but it's something.

Reason #6: He's beautiful

"Are you wearing my shirt?"

Steve leans against the doorframe, all pink cheeks and wide eyes. Tony lets out a muffled sound, struggling with his watch.

"Yeah, sorry. Your room was closer."

Steve swallows then, once, twice, nervous. The urge feels catastrophic, suddenly, fingers itching to touch and tangle, bury themselves in cotton and never let go.

"It's fine."

And there's a smile on his face, but he must sound wrong, all wrong, because Tony stops, coming to a still, and just stares. Stares and stares, and then his cheeks go pink and he frowns.

"A little help?"

His voice is small, tinny and soft, and so unlike Tony that he's desperate, suddenly, hopeless to do anything but step forward, one foot then the next. He reaches Tony, and his fingers clasp around his wrist.

'If I'm gentle enough,' he thinks, 'maybe I won't break what's left of him.'

And it's a dumb thought. Because he knows this thing between them is meant to break.

Steve's Reason Not to Kiss Him #1: You can't put him back together if you shatter this thing first

He clasps the watch closed, and leaves.

There are moments where the song of silence bubbles between them. Where the air is thick with a kind of heavy two men only know in the darkness. There are moments where the urge to bend, to shuffle, to ease right into something fragile, overwhelms him.

The break, when it comes, has a pulse. Beats in his chest. Steve knows this song. He is used to the way quiet lives in his cheeks. Tastes desperation, gritty on his tongue, kisses closed the 'I love you's' that threaten to pour through teeth and land at their feet. They urge, whisper, moan and sigh and beg to roll off his tongue and shake this foundation. This careful laid thing before them.

And then they do.

They are sitting in the kitchen. There is a pot of coffee going, and Steve can smell it in the air. He is tired, fresh on nightmares and the heavy rap of his pulse in his throat. The kitchen is warm, sticky breaths in the heat of summer, seeping up from the floorboards to lodge in their ribcage. They are leaning heavy on their chairs, feet flat on the tiles and sticking with a plop.

When Tony finally speaks, it's so soft Steve wonders if he heard anything at all.

"Sometimes… sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be different, you know?"

And Steve does, he really does, but it shakes that water in his lungs to hear Tony say it, so he tightens his hold on the mug in front of him and just says,

"I love you."

And it's so funny, months and months of push and pull, and here he goes, waters of the well of his heart that go spilling out onto the tile, and when he looks up, Tony's so small.

"You shouldn't."

He should.

"I do."

He does.

And he means it, true and firm and good. And then suddenly Tony's standing, up up up, and clearing the counter, spilling into Steve's space like he knows he belongs. There is a heartbeat of a moment where the world is silent. Where nobody moves, and nobody speaks, and then Steve Rogers is kissing Tony Stark.

Steve feels like he's falling. Down, under, deep into something he can't crawl out of. And then he's sighing, warm breaths in and out, and whose tongue is that, his or Tony's? There is a second heartbeat in his throat, firm beside his own, and suddenly he's smiling, wide and tongue and teeth, and he bumps Tony's nose, but he doesn't seem to care. Just smiles back, grips the back of Steve's neck till the angles just right, till the hum in his ears is steady and full and so is he.

Steve supposes he ought to come up with a new list.

'1001 Ways to Make Tony Stark Smile' has a nice ring to it.

hi, lovely to meet you! im dizzy, the Garbage Man, who doesn't know how to write anything but terrible, terrible mutual pining!

this is cross posted from ao3, where this was originally posted as the second piece of fanfiction ive ever written! hooray!

its a tiny bit older now, but this is most peoples favorite work of mine, so I figured I ought to post it

trying to get everything from there onto this website, but it might take me a bit, so if you liked this, you can read most everything ive written on ao3 as dizzydreamer, or on tumblr, which shares a name with this platform (hesallin!)

thanks so much if you read all this! I have a lot of love in my heart for his fic, and I really hope you enjoyed it

as always, reviews and favorites feed the author, so if you liked it, consider spreading some love? those make my day

feel free to come say hi on tumblr! I love meeting new friends


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